But it was no use. The Fire still burned.
She thought she was hiding it, but Master Corren’s expression became concerned. “If this isn’t working—”
“It is,” Tamri said quickly. And then, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, she bit down on the inside of her cheek and sucked the Fire into her hands in one pull.
The next thing she knew, she was looking up from the hot stone floor. Master Corren knelt over her, sweat glistening in his short gray hair, face pale. The other students crowded around him anxiously. Well, everyone was anxious except for Shylla, who wore a satisfied smirk.
Tamri blinked groggily. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Kay said, sounding half concerned and half impressed. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Tamri sat up, face flushing, and scooted back from the others. Lying on her back in the middle of the crowd made her feel unspeakably vulnerable. She winced as she put weight on her hands. They ached from her palms to her wrists.
“Well, you got the Fire into you,” Master Corren said. “I pulled it out as soon as you fell. If it hurt enough to make you black out—”
“It wasn’t that,” Tamri said. “I was just tired from running this morning. Maybe I need to drink more water.”
Master Corren looked skeptical. “The queen and I expect our students to work hard, but we don’t want you to get hurt. We can’t continue if your body is already too used to the Watermight.”
“Let me try again,” Tamri said, trying and failing to hide her desperation. “I’m just dehydrated. And I’m not used to the thin air here.”
She kept her hands out of sight in case any burn marks revealed the lie. Even Fireworkers could be burned if they Worked too fast or drew in too much Fire, but that wouldn’t help her case now.
Her instructor was still frowning. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Aw, give her another chance, Master Corren,” Kay said. “It’s only her first day.”
“Yes,” Shylla said, an unkind note in her voice. “Let’s see that again.”
Master Corren rubbed a thick finger under his eye. “Perhaps we can try once more.”
“You won’t regret it,” Kay said. “Tamri’s a tough one.”
Tamri gave her a grateful nod. Kay grinned back.
“Very well. Get her some water, please, Ber,” Master Corren said, getting to his feet. “The rest of you get back to work.”
The other students returned to their tables reluctantly, but Tamri knew they were still watching. The group sensed weakness, whether or not they were aware of it. Tamri refused to show any more.
“Here’s the water.” Ber appeared at her side with a clay mug, which felt blessedly cool in her hands. She stealthily examined her palm. The skin was a little red from that spoonful of Fire, but she suspected an ordinary person would have a much worse burn. She’d make this work somehow.
“Don’t think of it like Watermight,” Ber said, too quietly for anyone but Tamri to hear.
“What?”
“The Fire and the Watermight are different. You have to forget what you know about one each time you use the other. It helps.”
Tamri studied the boy, whose solemn bearing was so unlike his sister’s. She wasn’t too proud to take advice from a much-younger student. “Did you start out with one and switch to the other?”
Ber shook his head. “Kay and I came to Vertigon to become Fireworkers, like our father. But I was only ten, and it was easier for me to adjust to both substances. Most of the Originals favor one or the other, but I’m good at both.” He said it matter-of-factly, without a hint of bragging or bluster. “It’s because I know the powers aren’t the same at all.”
Tamri handed the mug back to him. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”
She stood and faced Master Corren again. The other students watched, only pretending to focus on their own projects. Miles didn’t notice when another metal stick melted in his hands.
Tamri held out her hands. “Let’s try that again.”
“Get ready.” Master Corren oozed Fire out of his fingers—the same Fire he’d pulled from her body moments ago—and let it snake toward her in a slow spiral. “Please tell me if it hurts too much.”
“I will,” Tamri lied.
This time she avoided thinking about the way Watermight froze her bones and instead imagined the Fire was blood. It was a hot, viscous substance that moved and behaved differently than her native power. It still hurt when it touched her skin, but she suppressed the urge to hurl it away from her. She simply let it sit there like an open wound.
The Fire pricked her skin like hot thorns, but she refused to let it get the better of her. She imagined it flowing into her veins, spreading through her palm and down her wrist.
At last, the Fire began to sink into her. She shook with the effort of not pushing it away, not passing out. The prickling sensation traveled down her arm, inch by inch, getting deeper. Sweat bathed her forehead, and black specks clouded her vision. She felt as if she was going to vomit.
But she stayed on her feet. Allowed the power to sit beneath her skin. Held on a little longer. A little longer.
“Okay, Tamri, that’s enough,” Master Corren said.
At his words, she jerked the Fire out of her hands. Master Corren ducked as it spurted across the chamber like arterial blood.
“We’ll have to work on that part,” he said. “But that was a good start for today.”
A few of the students cheered. Kay banged a piece of metal on her table in celebration, and Ber gave her a solemn nod.
“You did it! Well done!”
Tamri focused on staying upright. The cloud of black specks had become a swarm when the power left her, and she nearly passed out again. As soon as Master Corren strode away to help another student, she sagged against the table and massaged her throbbing hands. She might have done it, but she wasn’t sure how many more lessons like that she could take. It was now abundantly clear to Tamri that her body couldn’t handle the Fire.
17
The weeks passed quickly at the Wielder School, but the Fire lessons didn’t get any easier. It continued to hurt when Tamri drew the power into her veins, sometimes so badly that she felt nauseous or her vision blurred. She didn’t dare tell anyone how severe the pain was lest she get kicked out of the school. She managed to avoid blacking out again, and she could usually make it out of the Workshop before throwing up.
To cope with the pain, she kept from touching the power as much as possible. Master Corren chastised her every time he caught her using the substance without drawing it into her body first.
“That’s why the melt is uneven,” he’d say, pausing to look over her shoulder at the lump of steel she was supposed to be forming into a sphere. “You can’t skip any steps.”
She would nod and promise to do better, but she dreaded every Fire lesson knowing she’d have to inflict that blistering pain on herself again. Worse were the looks of pity she started receiving from the other students when she couldn’t complete her tasks because the Fire was too unwieldy.